


you’ll find i’m petrified of your eyes

by wisteria921



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Episode: s05e11 G.I. Jeff, Found Family, Gen, Healing isn't linear, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jeff Winger Has Issues, Self-Harm, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisteria921/pseuds/wisteria921
Summary: Jeff tells them that he took those pills because he didn’t want to be 40, and they believe him. Well, most of them believe him.
Relationships: Abed Nadir & Jeff Winger, Annie Edison & Jeff Winger, Britta Perry & Jeff Winger, Shirley Bennett & Jeff Winger, can be read as Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Comments: 22
Kudos: 174





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Starving Your Friends by Envy on the Coast on repeat for a few hours, and this ended up happening with me sitting on the bathroom floor from 3-5 am typing in my notes app. After discovering Community a month ago and binge-watching it 1.5 times so far, I’ve been obsessively searching Ao3 for angsty emo stuff/whump, and there just ain’t enough! Sorry for torturing you Jeff, I just love to project onto you xx

All of the taut, worried faces staring down at him are making him want to melt into his sheets and disappear, but unfortunately, he already failed once at that. 

Britta hesitantly asks, “You weren’t trying to...”

“No, of course not.” Jeff immediately cuts her off. It isn’t entirely the truth, but lying his job. It’s his whole thing. Especially when he’s lying about this. “I just wanted to get drunk, and I didn’t want to turn 40, and— I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She nods with a look of relief and a sympathetic smile on her face, and the rest of the group visibly relaxes a little. Jeff feels the weight in his chest drop even further and thinks, _how stupid do they think I am?_

He did it to himself, though. He’s just too good— if he could fool his old law firm for seven years and his therapist, it would be plain embarrassing if he can’t convince his friends that he’s fine. Even if he isn’t. Even if, deep down, he desperately, irrationally wishes that one of them would see through his lies. 

But that just isn’t an option. He couldn’t even die properly when he finally took the plunge to try to, and he screwed things up in the process; all that he can do now is try to salvage what he can. Damage control. The committee doesn’t know why he really took those pills, and they can’t ever find out.

He seems to be doing a good job so far. Satisfied that Jeff isn’t in the hospital for a suicide attempt, everyone else lightens up. They try to comfort him about his age and insecurities, and he goes along with it. Secretly, he doesn’t mind being crowded into their big group hug. Secretly, he relishes it, loves it, and he loves them, even though he doesn’t deserve them. He puts his arms around Annie and Shirley and feels a pang of despair so sharp that it hurts. The hug is bittersweet.

The moment ends too soon, though. They make jokes and laugh together, but slowly, each of his friends leaves him alone for the night, all of them having places they need to be and people they need to be with. Eventually, only Annie and Abed are left, both sitting quietly by his bed.

He lets his plastered-on smile fade, figuring that it’s late enough for him to pull the “I’m just tired” card. That one isn’t even a lie; he is tired. Tired and numb, and he wants to be alone at this point. He’s better at fake laughter than most, but he’s had a long day.

Abed breaks the silence, his sharpness drawing Jeff‘s attention. “You know, we aren’t characters in a sitcom, Jeff. Overdosing is a big deal. You don’t have to fake a happy ending and resolve everything by the end of the episode. It’s unrealistic.”

He stops when Annie elbows him and lightly exclaims, “Abed!” She looks at Jeff, her face turning sad. He meets her gaze for a second then drops it in favor of intently studying his fingernails instead. He can’t deal with this. 

“Thanks Abed, but I know we aren’t TV characters. I’m surprised that you do.” He winces. Hurting his friends even more is the cherry on top of the whole night. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just a little worn out, alright?” Y’know, ODing and all, it takes a lot out of you, he refrains from adding, having just enough self-control to stop there considering who else is in the room.

“It’s okay. I know. I’m gonna go now, emotional comfort isn’t really my strong suite.” Bless Abed. Abed, who is finally going to leave him be. “But I’m serious. Think about what I said, okay?” He looks directly into Jeff’s eyes for a quick moment. “Bye Jeff, see you Annie.”

With that, it’s just the two of them. Jeff does think about what his friend said. He wants to scoff and ignore it; it sounds silly, but it’s wise, and he actually can’t stop thinking about it. But he can’t bring himself to believe it, or at least in regards to himself. It’s disappointing. Hopeless. His face must’ve shown how defeated he feels because Annie chooses that instant to softly pipe up.

“Jeff. You know we love you, right?” When he doesn’t respond, she continues, gaining confidence the more she speaks. “What you’ve said— it can’t just be that. I know you didn’t really think those pills would make you younger, you’re not that dumb.”

“Hey,” he protests, interrupting her. But neither of them have any bite to their remarks.

“Anyway, you know what I’m saying. I won’t make you tell me everything right now because— I understand how you feel, or at least I’m the closest out of everyone in this group to understanding, that I know of. I’ve been there too, back in high school, just under a different context. What I’m trying to say is— it’s okay to feel this way. To not be okay. You don’t have to act stoic all the time and hide everything because we’re here for you.”

He looks up at her again, taking in her serious expression and wide eyes. She folds her hands in her lap, seemingly done talking, and he tries—really tries, as difficult as it is— as to take her words to heart. 

After a long pause, he attempts to find his voice. “Annie... alright. Yeah.” For a guy who always has something to say, he thinks she really did a number on him this time. Shockingly, though, he sort of believes her. Or at least believes that she believes it.

Annie just poured her heart out to him, and all he can say is alright, yeah? No— that’s not good enough. He sighs— a great, heaving sigh that he imagines releases some of the tightness from his chest— and leans forward so that he can reach for her hand, ignoring how his body aches in protest. She lets him take it. It’s small, dainty, and warm, and he thinks that maybe it isn’t all bad being alive. 

This time, he doesn’t break eye contact. “Thanks. Seriously, Annie. Thank you.”

He feels his eyes starting to prick, which plainly horrifies him, so he begins to pull away. He will not start crying in front of a girl, especially not a member of his study group, and especially not the person who he cares about more than anybody else at Greendale. 

Then suddenly, Annie leaps at him, embracing him for the second time that night. He hears a muffled “There’s nothing to thank me for,” and he wraps his arms around her too.

He belatedly realizes that she’s sniffling and shaking, and he inwardly curses. Girls’ tears are his kryptonite. It’s not just because it’s her.

They comfort each other for a little while, and Jeff is glad that he isn’t alone. 

Of course, he’s only letting himself cry because she can’t see his face when they’re hugging like this. That’s the only reason why. And it wouldn’t be happening if she were anybody else, of course. He tells himself that he can calm down whenever he wants to. 

But for some odd reason, that doesn’t happen. Not until the two of them eventually relax, and he discovers that he actually does feel a little better after all that. Annie now is just as drained as him. “I’m not leaving,” she whispers.

Does she mean the hospital room or... him? Jeff doesn’t ask.

“Me neither.”


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff is discharged from the hospital, and Britta takes him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for Jeff and Britta’s bickering, and I hope I did them justice. Also, I once saw some people on this website talking about how they wished Jeff and Britta were closer friends after they stopped sexing one another, and I totally agree yoooo well anyway I hope y’all enjoy 🤩

Jeff never appreciates silence more in his life than in the moment he steps into his dark apartment.

* * *

He was discharged after spending a few of days in the hospital bed as the drugs and alcohol slowly got out of his system. It was nearly impossible to get any sleep in that place, what with the constant beeping of the machines both in his room and from the hallway, the nurses and techs checking in on him at ungodly hours of the night, and his friends visiting him as much as they could. (Not that he didn’t enjoy that last part.) During his stay, he found himself constantly wishing for the peace, quiet, and familiarity of his home.

5:39 pm Friday night was when his doctor finally came into his room to discuss discharging him. Two hours later, all the paperwork was finally taken care of, and the only thing he needed was someone to drive him. He texted the group chat that was still aptly named “spanish study group” in his messages to ask if any of them wouldn’t mind giving him a ride home, and less than ten seconds later, his phone started ringing. It was Annie. 

He picked up reluctantly, wishing that she would’ve just texted so that he wouldn’t have to put in the effort that it takes to physically speak. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jeff!” The sound of her peppy voice made him want to smile. “I can come pick you up! I’m in line at Walmart with like, a hundred dollars worth of groceries right now, but if you don’t mind waiting a little, I can be there as soon as possible?”

Jeff could envision her little head tilt as she said the last few words. He was about to respond when his phone buzzed again— Britta had texted back in the group chat. 

“Well Annie, I would take you up on that, but do you see what Britta just sent? Also, it does sound a tiny bit like you have your hands full already.”

There was a pause as she presumably read the text, then she made a small affirming noise (he could tell that she nodded.) “Alright, that’s fine. But still— call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, Annie.”

It was settled: Britta said she was going to be in his part of town tonight already, so she would give him a lift on the way over. She arrived at the hospital quickly, sooner than he had expected, and a little while later, they were on their way.

“How does it feel to taste the sweet, sweet flavor of freedom again?” Britta said as she started her car, smirking at him from the driver’s seat. 

Jeff scoffed, then paused for a moment before he responded. “Really nice, actually. God, I can’t wait to be back in my own place, just me and a bottle of scotch—“ He stopped when she shoots a warning glance at him. “Is what I would say if I were an alcoholic, duh doy. God, I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed, y’know?”

Britta sighed, but he could tell she wasn’t really mad. “Well, I know that you need to have a good night’s rest in your own home. To recuperate. We aren’t just gonna leave you alone after that, though, or act like nothing happened; what kind of therapist would I be if we did that?”

“Whatever you say, Dr. Perry,” he replied sarcastically. “By the way, what were you doing near the hospital tonight, anyway? Not heading to that skeevy bar again, were you?”

“Hey, for your information, The Vatican is an establishment of high quality! And I was actually going to turn in an application there, among other things.”

Jeff fake gasped. “And give yourself up as a slave to capitalism?” He missed this kind of banter with his friend, as well as not being treated like an invalid. Ironically, Britta was good about that— she never infantilized him, despite how she might’ve treated anyone else whenever they had issues. Though he would never admit it, Jeff loved that about his friendship with Britta; it was unique. 

“Hey, a girl’s gotta do what it takes to rise above the patriarchy in this country...”

* * *

It took them about 15 minutes to arrive at Jeff’s apartment.

“You sure you’ll be alright by yourself this evening?” Britta asked as she escorted him to the door of his building. 

“Of course I will be. I think I’m gonna crash and go to sleep as soon as I walk in, actually. You don’t have to stay any longer.”

“Aw, what about your 20 minute skincare routine? I know you’ve been dying without it at the hospital!” 

He let himself chuckle. “That can wait until tomorrow. Thanks for driving me, Britta; I owe you one.”

She must have heard the note of finality in his voice because her shit-eating grin turned into a more sincere one. “Don’t worry about it, Winger. See you later.”

After she left, he sent a quick text to the group chat. _i’m home, and to her credit, britta did a good job not brittaing the car ride. gonna go to sleep now, i’ll see you guys soon._

* * *

Now Jeff is alone, and it’s for the first time since his overdose. _Time for a round two?_ He thinks and snorts at his own joke. But no— not tonight, at least. He has a few conflicting desires, and until this moment, he had been planning to act on one of them for the first time in weeks. Suddenly, though, his strongest urge is simply to get in his own king-sized bed with its luxury satin sheets and hopefully not wake up until next week. He’s exhausted.

Before climbing into bed, he strips to his underwear and throws his clothes onto the floor; there’ll be time for that later. He throws a glance at the bottom drawer of the nightstand where his old box cutter is stashed, but he quickly discards that idea too. He doesn’t have the kind of energy he’d need in order to clean up at the moment. So finally, he lets himself relax, and he drifts off almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl, I decided to write more of this today because my SH urge feels like it’s slowly coming back into full force, so instead of acting on it, I projected it onto Jeff instead 🤪👌👌 Again, thanks for reading! Chapter 3 coming soon (probably)


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff is back home. He's struggling. His friends want to help him out a little, and he couldn't ask for anything better than them. Healing isn't linear; it's the hardest thing in the world, but Jeff is on the right path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️⚠️ tw! I changed the rating for a graphic description of blood/pain from self-harm at the beginning of this chapter. Anyway, hi, sorry this took so long! I’ve been distracted from writing this by biking a lot, watching a bunch of shows and movies and a tonnn of critical role, and working on an idea for my first dnd campaign (it’s western themed yeehaw). How have y'all been doing? I hope you like the last chapter :)

It’s a late night at the office, the same as any other. Hickey already went home a few hours ago. Jeff lazily grades papers with his right hand as he takes sips of his drink with his left, not caring very much about what his students wrote on their last assignment. He‘s refilling his glass with Pierce’s parting gift for the nth time, and the bottle is almost empty when he realizes that he might as well save the schoolwork for another day and take this time to fully indulge in the feeling of losing control. After all, he is completely alone. 

He looks down again, and his red pen and papers are gone. Instead, in his hand are three white pills. Jeff knows what they really are; of course he’s not stupid enough to think that these drugs will make him youthful again. He closes his eyes and swallows them. Happy birthday to me. 

He rests his head on the table. Slowly, though, a new sensation begins to creep across his skin. He tries, fails to sit back up and realizes that he doesn’t have the strength to move. He doesn’t particularly mind either way. But as the strange sensation becomes harder to ignore— it feels like some sort of hot, somewhat sticky liquid is running down his arms and draining his energy— he gives in and cracks one eye open.

The first thing he notices is the dark red blood. Everywhere. Pouring from both of his inner forearms in a steady flow, as if his veins were split open. Then the smell hits him hard; it’s metallic and pungent. _When did I...?_ Oddly enough, the pain isn’t that bad. It’s pulsing and deep, but it feels numbed. That is, until he tries to move himself up into a sitting position, and blood squirts out as his muscles clench. A sharp jolt runs through his arm at the same time as his wrist bumps into a cold, sharp object. 

Jeff‘s eyes suddenly open again as he jolts awake, disoriented and more than a little disturbed. It takes a moment for him to realize that he’s in his bedroom, not his office, and that he isn’t actually bleeding out all over his desk. It felt so real. He makes sure that his arms are actually dry and uninjured by tracing a finger down them— all clean. 

After taking several deep breaths, he feels like he’s calmed down enough to sit up. He rubs his eyes; they’re stinging from lack of sleep. It’s still dark out through the closed blinds in his room, but he hears birds singing, and the clock tells him that it’s 6:04 am. No matter how early it is, there’s no way he’s going back to bed after that dream.

“What the hell?” He whispers to himself. Then, yawning, he grabs his phone and stands up to wobble over to the kitchen and get a cup of water. 

Not scotch, he thinks wryly as he takes a seat. _Fuck, I’m still tired._

The reflection on his phone highlights his tired eyes, lack of his signature smirk, and greasy mess of hair. He tilts the phone up a little so that he doesn’t have to look at himself. Still staring at the black screen, he thinks about his friends; he recognizes how inconsiderate and awful it would be to text them at an ungodly hour like this, assuming any of them would even be awake. (Annie would be, probably. He can totally see that.) And what would he even say? _hey guys, i had a nightmare and might cut some styros, so can somebody come over and tuck me back into bed lmao?_ It’s out of the question. He’s an adult. He doesn’t need to bother anyone in order to take care of himself.

Except for that one time a few days ago, but that was out of his control. He wasn’t supposed to wake up in the hospital, alive and unwell, and though the small, vaguely rational side of him is grateful, another part of him regrets being saved at the same time. Regrets taking those pills in the first place. He’s just caused so many problems for everyone, and more than anything else, he hates that he has become such a burden. 

Jeff hopes that everyone else is having a better morning than he is. 

He sits there for a while until, eventually, his urge to pee overrides his combination of spiraling thoughts and a lack of motivation to move. The time is 6:55 am. How has it already been an hour?

* * *

Someone raps loudly on the door, waking Jeff up from his mini nap on the couch. He’s annoyed, and he’s about to yell out something nice and scathing when he hears a woman’s cheery voice: “Hello!”

He may be agnostic, but _thank God_ he didn’t cuss out Shirley. 

Disgruntled, he takes his sweet time to get up and let her in. “Morning,” he grunts. Shirley’s carrying a large tote bag that seems to be filled with baking ingredients and a few overripe bananas, and wordlessly, he takes it from her and sets it down on the countertop.

She gives him a once-over and quickly surveys the rest of his apartment, wrinkling her nose at the clothes, empty bottles, and now blankets strewn across the floor. “Jeffrey, it’s almost noon, were you still sleeping?” She coos. “And why on God’s green earth does your apartment smell like bad cheese?” 

“No, of course I was awake, I’m not a five-year-old,” he replies.

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, then what were you doing?”

“Eh... nothing much.” He scratches his head awkwardly.

“Well,” she says, her voice softening, “You go get yourself cleaned up now. And we’re going to help you take care of this mess.”

“Who’s we?” 

Shirley giggles. “Oh, just the others. When Annie suggested that you could use some company, I couldn’t say no. Now excuse me; I’m going to open your windows, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, there’s a knock on Jeff’s door again. He hears from inside the bathroom Shirley’s squeals of happiness mixed in with a few other familiar voices: Britta, Abed, and Annie.

At Shirley’s insistence, he admitted defeat and went to take a much-needed shower. There was no arguing against her. She is a force of nature, and she isn’t to be reckoned with. After that, using his beloved almond foaming cleanser for the first time in a week, shaving, and fixing his hair a little, he feels almost human again. 

He has been procrastinating going back out there for the past few minutes, opting to stare blankly at himself in the mirror instead, but he can’t keep Shirley and now everyone else waiting forever. 

He almost wants to smile when he realizes that his friends— basically his family— are all here. Well, almost all of them, but there’s nothing they can do about that right now.

Despite the joy that they bring him, he also feels guilty at the same time. It’s for dragging them here, for forcing them to worry about him and help him and waste their weekend at his place, but he tries to push it down. He takes a deep breath. 

Opening the bathroom door, he’s hit with the scent of something delicious baking in his never-before used oven. Banana bread, maybe.

“Jeff!” Annie exclaims, her smile widening. 

At the same time, Abed waves a hand in greeting and gives him a knowing nod. 

“Wazzuppp?” Britta shouts gleefully, throwing her arms up. 

And Shirley is the one to bustle forward, a tray of muffins in her hands. “I made banana muffins for everyone! They have chocolate chips,” she adds in a lilting tone. 

“Hey guys,” Jeff says, letting the affection shine clearly in his voice. “Thanks for inviting me, I guess.”

* * *

As far as parties go, this one was a little lame. It wasn’t actually a party, really, just a get-together at his place that everyone knew about except for him. The others also helped him get his apartment cleaned up and filled him in on everything he missed during his stay in the hospital. There wasn’t any alcohol, so needless to say, they’ve had better parties, and they’ve had worse parties. But Jeff doubts he’ll ever forget it. 

Annie and Shirley are sitting on his bar stools, having their own conversation. Jeff decides to crash onto the couch between Britta and Abed with the last remaining muffin in his hand. For some reason, nobody criticized Shirley for her baking this time. (It just goes to show how delicious her banana muffins are, even if no one will admit it.) 

Abed glances down at him and states, “Nobody criticized Shirley for baking this time. Do you guys remember when Jeff almost created—”

“Yes!” Everyone else yells. Then for a moment, it’s quiet.

“Well, thank you Abed,” Shirley offers, bemused. “I knew you guys appreciated it, even if you never say it.”

“Oh… we’re sorry, Shirley! Your muffins really are so good, thanks for making them for us!” Annie pipes up to placate her.

Britta nods in earnest agreement. “Yeah, they’re really great!”

During this exchange, Jeff is lost in thought. After tonight, there is only one day left until he has to go back to his job. Back to Greendale, the place that ruined him and made him better. Back to his life as regularly scheduled. He doesn’t feel excited, considering how far from perfect things are right now, but maybe getting back to work will help him find his footing again. If nothing else, at least it’s a start.

“Jeff?”

Britta calls his name, so he looks up. “Sorry, what was I tuning out?” There are three resounding groans, and he has to chuckle. “Okay, okay. I have something to say… I love you guys.”

It goes quiet; the girls stop groaning immediately. Next to him, Britta twists in her slouched position to grin at him, and on the other side Abed pats him on the shoulder a few times. Annie and Shirley both go, “Aw!” 

“There’s no Winger speech, that just kind of came out. I just wanted to make sure you know,” he adds.

Annie is the first to respond, and her voice is warm and sincere when she tells him, “We love you too, Jeff.” The rest of them agree with her, and it makes him smile for real.

He knows that he’s not fixed, and he’s not exactly fine either— not yet, at least. But he also knows that there are great people supporting him, the best in the world, even when he slips, and he is so lucky to have them. 

The ‘party’ lasts for a few more hours. After everybody’s gone, Jeff goes straight to the bathroom to wash up, then collapses in bed, exhausted. All he wants for now is a good night’s rest; he figures that the later he sleeps in, the better.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s pleased to find out that he was asleep for twelve straight hours with no interruptions. He reckons he’s ready enough to start his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhhh found family good… <3 To everyone reading this, I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself!! And thank you so much for reading my first fic. I tend to start new things and literally never finish them, so this feels like a milestone for me lmao. I appreciate y’all. :,)


End file.
